


In The Wink Of An Eye (Each A Glimpse, And Gone Forever Remix)

by Elennare



Category: Chalet School - Elinor M. Brent-Dyer, Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elennare/pseuds/Elennare
Summary: On the worst train journey of her young life, Hilda Annersley meets a kind - if unusual - stranger.





	In The Wink Of An Eye (Each A Glimpse, And Gone Forever Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Each A Glimpse, And Gone Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/419411) by [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook). 
  * In response to a prompt by [lost_spook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook) in the [remixrevivalmadness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixrevivalmadness2017) collection. 



A farmhouse, fields, a winding river, flashed by in rapid succession as Hilda stared steadily out of the carriage window. She focussed on each as they whirled past, doing her best to concentrate entirely and exclusively on the views. If she didn’t, she would start thinking, and that was unbearable. At least the train was quiet, so she had this carriage almost but not quite to herself… She couldn’t have borne a laughing, chattering crowd, but she wouldn’t have wanted to be entirely alone either. She was under no illusions her brother would have stayed with her, whatever the train had been like; no sooner had he seen her safely settled than he’d slipped away with a muttered “You’ll be fine, right?”. She wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure, her or himself, and hadn’t bothered to answer. ‘Fine’. What a meaningless word. How could anything be ‘fine’ now - but no, she was not going to think like this. Concentrate on the world outside. Look at those sheep in the field.

“Faster than fairies, faster than witches,” her only companion suddenly said, interrupting her reverie, and she turned to look at him in surprise as he continued quoting. “Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches, and charging along like troops in a battle.”

Well - she had been rather dreading having to make polite small talk on the trip, but someone who opened a conversation by quoting poetry was interesting to say the least… And the warmth of his smile made her feel instinctively he would be kind, even if his choice of sweater was somewhat perplexing. 

The Doctor - as he introduced himself - did prove himself kind, pressing cake on her and taking an interest in her book. Twelfth Night, their set text. Her Literature teacher had offered the loan of any book from her own library for the trip home; it had been a generous offer, rarely made to the younger girls, and one that Hilda would normally have jumped at. But how could she pick a book out? Whichever one she did take would always be linked in her mind with this journey, and Hilda loved books too much to do that to one… So she’d turned her teacher’s suggestion down as gracefully as she knew how, and fortunately she had seemed to understand. 

At least Twelfth Night she had to read, but when she had sat down she hadn’t been able to face it. It had been easier to just watch the landscape pass. It was nice of the Doctor to talk about it with her now, though he couldn’t possibly really have met Shakespeare! It must just be a joke, intended to lift her spirits - for he’d already noticed that something was wrong, though he hadn’t pressed the matter. And yet he said it with such sincerity…

“I’d hate to be rude,” she said quietly, trying to find a way to phrase it, “but you don’t seem much like - well - all the other grown-ups.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and for a second she wondered if she had offended him. 

“I should think not!” he said, and Hilda realised with mixed relief and surprise that if anything had offended him, it was the idea of being like other grown-ups. “In that case, it couldn’t possibly matter if you told this silly old eccentric what the matter was, eh?”

His voice was very gentle, and Hilda felt he would understand if she told him, but - no. She couldn’t. If she were to start talking, or even thinking, about it properly, she would break down completely. Shaking her head, she looked out of the window again, fighting for self-control. The Doctor’s quiet quotation was no help this time, just making it worse. ‘A glimpse and gone forever’... She hadn’t even been allowed a last glimpse of Mother before she was gone. She wouldn’t start crying here, she wouldn’t! A tear or two escaped despite her efforts, and she concentrated harder, so hard she didn’t notice the Doctor hooking her book with his umbrella until it was out of her hands and into his.

The surprise of him doing so was so great it effectively distracted her, and no more tears made their appearance. The offer to read it to her was very kind - part apology, she realised, for distressing her; and part attempt to distract her, give her something else to think about. She certainly needed that, so she accepted, and was instantly glad she had. He read well, with an ease that suggested familiarity with the play… Perhaps he was an academic, who studied Shakespeare? That might explain him claiming to know Shakespeare, maybe, and academics were said to be excentrics… Then the story caught her up entirely, and she set all speculations aside, to live for a blessed moment of time in Illyria, far from this dreadful journey and the grief-stricken home waiting at its end.


End file.
